


The Second Coming

by Wishme



Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bunker, Fluff, Gen, M/M, de-aging spell, kid!Dean
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2013-05-29
Updated: 2013-05-29
Packaged: 2017-12-13 07:44:42
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,401
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/821764
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Wishme/pseuds/Wishme
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Dean gets hit by an age spell. Freaking witches, man.</p>
            </blockquote>





	The Second Coming

Sam hears the wails from downstairs. He sprints up the steps of the generic subdivision house, now splattered with blood and some goo he doesn’t even want to start to try to identify, and throws open the nearest door. He sees Castiel, but no Dean and the panic instantly ratchets up. “Cas, where’s Dean?”

 

Looking bedraggled and a bit more dismayed than Sam thinks he’s ever seen the angel (not that he’s anywhere near as fluent in Cas’ body language as Dean), Castiel gestures to the pile of cloth near his feet. It’s only then that Sam realizes the pile of cloth is a very familiar plaid. A very familiar plaid with a very naked infant in the center.

 

“Shit.”

 

******

 

They call James from Walmart. On their way out of the witches’s house they’d grabbed a handful of diapers and a slightly-too-large onesie from the closet. Apparently this particular coven had a reason for baby-on-the-brain. So, now Dean is settled in the seat of the shopping cart, pulling at the toes of his socks, eyes crossing with efford. Sam is already done with this whole thing. Dean is adorable, but accident prone, as he proves yet again by attempting to heave himself towards the floor with a laugh for the sixth time. Sam snags him with one arm as he listens to the phone ring. Castiel is caught up in reading every single ingredient on the baby food jars. “Dean doesn’t like these things, Sam. Do they have one in cheeseburger?”

 

As James answers the phone (“What is it, Winchester?”) Sam walks away, leaving Castiel to discuss the pureed vegetables with Dean. The angel reads out his favorites: carrots earn a raspberry from Dean, Beef an angry yammer, peas get a sock thrown on the floor. A kind eyed woman comes up and steers them towards the cereals and foods more appropriate for a one year-old. Dean looks pleased and wiggles the newly-naked toes of his left foot.

 

Sam catches up to them as Castiel contemplates organic vs. conventional carrots. “These look unclean,” he says to Sam and points to the conventional carrots. Sam rolls his eyes, “James hasn’t heard of a spell like this before, but he’s going to put some feelers out and get back to us. At least I think that’s what he said. He was laughing a lot.”

 

**********

 

They hightail it back to the Bunker, unload the groceries (“Good luck getting Dean to eat any of this, Castiel.” “I won’t have his health at risk, Sam.”), tuck Dean in for a nap and stare at his sleeping form. “He’s a lot easier to deal with at this size,” Sam jokes. Castiel nods, mouth tipping up wryly. They both jump when Sam’s phone starts to yell, and he steps into the hall. “Tell me what you got, James.”

 

Sam slips back into the room twenty minutes later. Castiel is still standing vigil over his brother’s body, the familiar sight settles some of the anxiety in Sam’s chest. He motions to Castiel to come out to the hallway. When the angel shuts the door behind him, Sam walks the both of them to the kitchen, grabbing two beers. “We’re going to need these.”

 

“James thinks it’s a moonseed based spell. Really old herblore here, more along the lines of a herbwife than a witch. He says it’s a curse new mothers would use to protect their children. Guess you guys got too close to that nursery for the witch’s comfort. But he says it should wear off at the next full moon, which is in a week and a half. He’s going to see what else he can find, but this is it, near as he can tell. We just have to take care of him until then.”

 

******

 

Castiel and Sam have their hands full. Dean is the happiest most affectionate child. He burbles and giggles and smiles that shy charming smile or the mischievous one when he gets caught with his hand in something. He rolls out of rooms the second Sam or Castiel blink and finds not one, but two secret passageways to storage rooms.  They learn quickly to get all the weapons high out of place (where only Sam can reach) because Dean’s favorite thing to do is _climb_ , or try to _._ His other favorite thing is Castiel.

 

Dean likes Sam fine, brightens up when he walks into the room, yammers at him when he’s trying to feed him lunch, shares his bathwater with Sam when all Sam really wants is to get this squirming thing _unsticky_ and into some clean clothes. Dean buries his face in Sam’s hair and blows raspberries at him, shrieks laughter into his belly. He loves his brother.

 

But Castiel is special. Dean’s smile grows soft and shy when the angel walks into the room. He insists that Castiel carry him through his morning walks in the garden and around the perimeter, checking the wards. He burrows into Castiel’s side, when the three of them are on the couch watching a movie (“Child appropriate, Sam”), one small foot reaching out to touch Sam.  He brings Castiel small, shiny rocks, offers him bits of his food, will eat anything the angel puts in front of him. And he’ll only fall asleep if Castiel sings him a lullaby in Enochian, a chubby fist wrapped tight around the angel’s graceful tapered fingers.

 

Sam does his best to not get put out about it. But with only a few days left to go, he can’t help but grump when Dean refuses to open his mouth for a bite of his lunch _yet again_. “Come _on_ , Dean. Cas gave this to you yesterday. You _loved_ it.”

 

Dean stubbornly refuses to open his mouth, green eyes flinty and narrow.

“Fine,” Sam sets the spoon down and yells, “CAS!”  startling Dean into crying.

 

The angel rushes into the kitchen and glares at Sam. “What did you do?” he asks as he scoops the squalling kid into his arms. Dean immediately quiets down to a wimper.

 

“Nothing. I apparently can’t get him to eat. I can’t get him to do anything, not even as a baby,”  Sam slumps in the chair.

Castiel regards the hunter gravely, “Are you jealous of Dean’s and my bond, Sam?”

 

Sam’s eyes fly open, “Your what?” he chokes.

 

“Our bond, Sam. We’ve spoken of this before. Dean and I share a profound bond. He must find it comforting in such a confusing state.” Cas strokes Dean’s downy head carefully. “It might also be that even in this state he feels the need to take care of you and not let you take care of him. You know how he is.”

 

Sam sighs and rests his head on the table, “Man, we are so fucked up.”

 

****

A yell wakes Castiel and Sam, who come running down the hall. Dean stumbles out the door, a piece of what was once a onesie hanging off his arm and a look of horror on his face, “I really need a shower.” He doesn’t look either of them in the eye as he streaks down the hallway. They look at each other and crack up laughing.

 

*****

 

Dean slides into the kitchen, damp and sheepish. “I guess I owe you guys.”

 

“I’ll say you do,” Sam says, sliding a plate of eggs in front of his brother, “I never want to change diapers again.”

 

Dean’s face flushes, “Shut up, bitch.”

 

Sam grins, “Jerk.”

 

Castiel tilts his head, “It was really not a problem Dean. You required very little. I am glad you are back though.”

 

The hunter’s eyes lift to meet the angel’s across the table, “Thanks Cas.”

 

****

That night Castiel walks into Dean’s bedroom. Dean sets down his book on the nightstand. “Did you need something, Cas?”

 

“I thought you might need a lullaby.”

 

“A wha-? Oh.” Dean’s cheeks heat. “Ah, no. I’m ok, thanks”

 

“Ah. Um, very well,” the angel replies, “I’ll just go then.” His shoulders slump as he reaches for the door.

 

“Cas, wait,” the words are out of Dean’s mouth before he realizes it. “Stay? Um, that song sounds kind of nice, actually.” He falters under the angel’s gaze.  “It’s been a weird week.”

 

A small, shy smile ghosts across Castiel’s face as he walks towards Dean and sits next to him on the bed, taking one of the hunter's hands in his own. “Ok.”

 

 

 


End file.
